


A Father Worth Dying For

by TheWaffleBat



Series: Home From All The Ports [14]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: A Friend Worth Dying For fix it, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Dad!Barnabas, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Injury, Sorry Barnabas, Spoilers, because apparently I think Odyssey can't do anything right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-12-26 00:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18271856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWaffleBat/pseuds/TheWaffleBat
Summary: Barnabas paced excitedly, back and forth back and forth in a tight little circle, sharp and quick. “Leda,” He murmured, “My dear wife Leda. You will find her, won’t you?”“If she’s alive, Barnabas,” Said Kassandra with a smile, clapping his arm and giving a squeeze as she moved to to set sail, “Then I’ll find her.”Barnabas has seen his long-lost wife in a vision - what else is an old sailor to do but help Kassandra find her?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **POSSIBLE SPOILERS FOR THE _A FRIEND WORTH DYING FOR_ QUEST, BE WARNED.**

Ikaros hung low in the sky, tilting his wings into the breeze and riding the thermals heavy over the blue waters of the strait. He gave a happy cry to the cloudless sky stretching out overhead, swooping lower and skimming Kassandra’s head with his wing. She shooed him away with a laugh, said fondly, “Daft bird,” As she made her way to Barnabas, because Ikaros _was_ a daft old thing; pouncing on anything silvery in the water hoping it was a fish, catching true fish from the sea and only forgotten pennies from the fountains.

He screeched affront at her, bat her head again with his wing, and retreated to the sky where she couldn’t swat him so easily, watching Sparta’s ships in their patrols and ignoring her whistles imitating an eagle's laugh.

Barnabas was leaned against the railings near the prow, so Kassandra joined him, looking out across the water and the island green as emeralds swarming with sea birds. “Feeling better, Barnabas?” She asked, watching him rub his temple with a wince. “That lotus wine did quite the number on you, according to Herodotus.”

“Ha!” He shouted, grinning. “I’ve had worse. I once drank so much wine I woke up in a goat shed with no sandals on, wearing a straw hat and a woman’s dress!” Barnabas turned back to the water soon enough, rubbing away the smile on his mouth as he nodded thoughtfully to himself. “It was the strangest thing, though,” He murmured. “I had a vision, of my dear wife Leda.”

“You have a wife?”

Barnabas smiled, small and soft. “Oh yes,” He said. “And what a woman she was! _Beautiful_ , you know - dark, hair, dark skin, and her _eyes_ ; oh, her eyes could outshine even Venus' gentle gaze! My daughter,” He said, hugging her close and gesturing to the trees on the island swaying gently in the breeze. “Not even the green of those leaves could compare to the emeralds of my dear Leda! And she could charm the underthings from a celibate priest! Oh, you would just love each other,” He added, the wonder of it bright as the warm sun overhead in his face. "A _fighter_ , she was - vicious as a wildcat; like you!"

Ikaros, finally realising that Kassandra had stopped paying attention to him ignoring her, swooped down to perch on her arm, tugging on her sleeve and looking away when she glanced at him. Kassandra stroked his back to keep him quiet while he murmured _food food food_ under his breath.

“She loved weapons; swords, spears, axes, daggers - give her a blade and she could tell you its history, right down to the smith that made it sometimes! And gods help you if she gets a few drinks in her; she’d fight Ares himself if I let her!” Barnabas laughed at the memory, startling Ikaros into a reflexive little hop and his wings snapping open, ready to flee. Primly, Ikaros preened himself; squawked when Kassandra poked him and fluffed up _Indignant_ when he saw her laughing smile at him. “Oh my dearest Kassandra, as soon as she knows you like to fight you’ll never be rid of her - you’d be her daughter, like the one we always wanted!”

“She sounds wonderful,” Said Kassandra. “What happened to her?”

The sea birds overhead called to each other loudly, stupid and demanding and hungry for whatever scraps of food was thrown overboard, stale bread floating pale in the sea and fish guts drawing small sharks, but Kassandra didn’t mind those small sharks so much. They ate the squalling gulls floating on the water gulping down whatever was in reach. Barnabas sighed, smile gone, and touched his dead-white eye and the pale scar cut jagged down it.

“A storm took my dear Leda,” He said quietly, watching a shark snap up one of the birds. “The one that cost me my eye. We were sailing along quite happily then WHOOSH!” Barnabas swept his arms out, “Poseidon was angry with us, out of nowhere! The ship was dashed against some rocks and my Leda was gone, just like that.” Barnabas deflated slowly, sighed sadly to himself; put his hand over Kassandra’s when she rest it on his wrist. He nodded to himself. “I thought she was gone forever. But I saw her, in my vision - she _must_ be alive! The gods wouldn’t lie about that!”

“Of course not,” Kassandra agreed, though she didn't much think the gods quite so courteous. “Tell me about the visions, and I’ll see if I can’t find her for-”

Ikaros screeched in alarm as Barnabas swept her up in a hug, squeezing tight and trying to lift her up, though she was a bit big and Barnabas a bit small for that. “My dear Kassandra you are the best daughter a man could ask for!” He said, stepped back and cupped her face, fondness and happiness and _love_ bright in his beaming face. “Oh, Leda will love you! She really will! A daughter of our own,” He breathed, stroking Kassandra’s cheeks. “Our daughter. The most wonderful child of Leda and me and Herodotus and Nikolaos.”

Kassandra gently squeezed his wrists to tell him to let her go. “The vision, Barnabas,” She reminded him. “I might be your most wonderful child but I’m no miracle worker. What did the gods show you? In your vision?”

“First,” Said Barnabas, “She fed a Cyclops in a dark cavern. Then I saw her drinking wine with a witch! And after that it was _sirens_ \- they were singing with Leda. Not half so beautifully, though,” He added proudly. “Leda had a voice that could make any man drop his trousers for her - it was how I came to love her.” Kassandra wrinkled her nose because _ew_ , she didn’t want to know about _that_ , but he didn’t seem to notice. Barnabas paced excitedly, back and forth back and forth in a tight little circle, sharp and quick. “Leda,” He murmured, “My dear wife Leda. You _will_ find her, won’t you?”

“If she’s alive, Barnabas,” Said Kassandra with a smile, clapping his arm and giving a squeeze as she moved to to set sail, “Then I’ll find her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said Home From All the Ports was on hiatus. I _said_ it was on hiatus and that I was going to focus on some Dishonored stuff I've got in the works, but then I fucked up and did the new Barnabas quest, had a very nice conversation about how it's not quite right and the disagreements we had with the direction it took (because of course _I_ did, I'm very hard to please) so I'm doing my own version of it.
> 
> Surprisingly, though, I do actually like the quest. Considering how bad they fucked up Myrrine and the main game it was a really nice change. No extraneous bullshit, a nice and simple plot, and it had Barnabas. Plus, Leda was alright.
> 
> Not sure if the spoilers are going to be big or not, so be warned for that.


	2. Chapter 2

Kassandra decided to visit the sirens, first, so turned the Adrestia southwards. Mostly because it was closest, although some of it was Barnabas insisting it was the longer vision and, so, more important. Sailing close to the Attika coast for a while, keeping clear of the Athenian ships not because she thought they’d attack - the Adrestia was not Spartan, after all, despite having a Spartan captain and three Spartan lieutenants, one of which being the Wolf of Sparta himself - but because sometimes the waters didn’t favour them and with a storm churning the seas already she didn’t want to take the chance the Adrestia would be tossed into one of the triremes and they took umbrage. Better the rocks to wreck them, close to shore, than the Athenians on the open sea.

It wasn’t so long to travel to Kos even so, barely a half-day of travel, and soon enough called to the crew to bring them in to port, got cheers when she told them that as long as they were okay to set sail come dawn they had the rest of the day off. A quick scouting with Ikaros showed a tomb, and when he settled on the plinth of a fallen column, glancing about himself, there it was; the painted wall, faded a little from the years. Blocking the passage behind, which was annoying, but when Kassandra nudged him forwards, close to a part of it crumbling away, there was a faint, cold breeze slipping beneath Ikaros’ feathers.

Kassandra nodded to herself, went through the Adrestia hunting down her sword and armour and prepared to set off, beeswax in her pocket. She didn't think she'd need it - rarely, it seemed, were the monsters she hunted true monsters - but better safe than sorry, and she put her hand over it because Barnabas had thought about it, wanted her safe from the song that would snare her mind.

Sword on her belt, spear thrumming excitedly on her hip, Kassandra trotted to the docks and the waiting caverns beyond where sirens sang in the dark.

-:-

She kicked a small chunk of rubble as she made her way out of the caves, poor men who’d not seen the sun in gods knew how long murmuring wonder as they winced into the grey dawn light spilling down from above, because that was disappointing. The sirens were just women harvesting blood. Kassandra didn’t know why, she didn’t particularly want to, but she was grateful to have had the beeswax in her ears nevertheless.

Just once, _just once_ , it might have been nice for there to be actual monsters. Granted, there had once been a cyclops and a sphinx and a minotaur and a medusa, but usually it was just a man in a bull-headed costume, desperate to buy back his daughter. A siren, a real siren, would have been a fun fight. Instead, she had a fisherman stumbling along behind her, babbling poetry about the sun on his face at long last, who was going to annoy her an hour into travel, she was sure.

“Any sign of her?”

“Sweet Zeus,” Kassandra said, dropping the arm holding up her spear. “ _Barnabas_! I could have stabbed you! What if I’d not recognised you in time?”

Barnabas blithely waved it away. “You would never,” He said, falling into step with her. “Have you found Leda? Anything at all?”

Kassandra scowled at him, but brought out the Aulos for him to see. “I found this on one of the sirens,” She said. “But no sign of her otherwise. Seems she escaped and left this behind in the rush.” She pushed it into his hands, watched him stroke it reverently, so Kassandra sighed and squashed down her annoyance because Barnabas hadn’t _meant_ to frighten her like that. “Come,” She said softly, taking his arm and leading him and Eurylochos back to the Adrestia. “I’ll find the Cyclops. What can you tell me about him?”

-:-

In travelling to Anaphi she realised, yes, Eurylochos _did_ annoy her, because the man wouldn’t stop composing for every little thing he saw. When Kassandra looked through Ikaros’ eyes, scouting for pirates, he blathered about the dead-black sheen coming over her own like darkness eating the sun. When he saw a whale he sang an entire ballad about its breaching majesty. When Ikaros rest his wings and perched on Kassandra’s arm he talked constantly about the regality of eagles, noblest kings of birds.

Luckily she got to leave him with Polyphemos, who was very nice, even if he was a bit dim and did call her ‘Little’. There weren’t many dim men who were so kind as he was - usually they turned out cruel, or just inept - and she figured the world needed more of them. Although Kassandra did have to admit he had quite the way with words when he wrote them - there was a true brilliance to his spoken verse if he got _her_ to like it.

She didn’t know why his gift of spices might be useful but, even so, wished Polyphemos and Eurylochos many happy years composing together as Barnabas pointed her to Paros where the witch lived.

-:-

Kassandra scowled to herself, guiding Phobos around a tree as she nursed her bitten arm and held tight to the bag that held Barnabas’ dead wife’s bracelet. She should really stop being so unwilling to draw her blades against unarmed people - somehow it almost always lead to her regretting it. She regretted not killing Aspasia because Aspasia _lied_ to her, and was probably still looking for a way to get power now that being the leader of a cult hadn’t worked out so well. She regretted sometimes, guiltily, not killing Nikolaos because the sight of his face still hurt, twisting like a knife deep in her heart. She especially regretted not cutting the witch down because the witch was going to feed her to _pigs_ , and had done it to many people in the past.

Pigs! Lions or wolves or lynxes or bears or _anything else_ would have at least been an interesting death, a noble death. Pigs was a death best left to comedies and drunkards falling asleep in a starved sow's pen. Although Kassandra supposed she ought to give the woman points for creativity, if nothing else.

Barnabas met her at the dock, pat Phobos in hello and offered the horse an apple, which Phobos crunched through quite happily. “Anything?” Asked Barnabas as Kassandra dismounted.

“Some spices from the Cyclops in the cave - a gift for me, as he’d given to Leda - and from the witch a bracelet. I… found it in the witch’s things, and noticed it might have been from her. A gift. Of sorts.” Kassandra held them out, and Barnabas took both; held up the bracelet to the light, turning it this way and that to admire it.

“Ah, just like the one she used to wear,” He said. Frowned at her. “Kassandra, you’re hurt!”

She waved it away. “It’s nothing,” Kassandra said. “I ran into a very unhappy boar around the witch’s lair. The blood is his. Well, _mostly_ his.” She touched his wrist. “What do you make of them? Seemed an awful lot to go through just for some spices, a bracelet, and an aulos.”

Barnabas shook his head, pacing sharp and quick as he grinned. “Ah, but see! I know these things! The bracelet is like the ones worn by the women of the scorched plains, and the spices are natives of Demeter’s lands. And the aulos! See there?” He said, pointing it out for Kassandra. “Marked by a craftsman from the Parnes Mountains.”

“All from Attika,” Kassandra murmured.

“Not just Attika, my daughter,” Said Barnabas, teasingly haughty; delight making him giddy. “From around a cave said to lead to the underworld! It can’t be a coincidence, can it? It must be where my dear Leda is!”

“To Attika then,” She agreed. “ROWERS! TO YOUR STATIONS! We sail for Athens!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie, I like this quest purely because of how cute Barnabas and Kassandra were during it. I cannot explain how much it made me love boat dad even more - _why_ is he so damned _cute_? He's like a puppy!
> 
> Keeping details light partly because I think this quest is funnier without having every line spoiled before hand, partly because it was getting insufferably long, and partly because a lot of it just wasn't relevant.


	3. Chapter 3

Phobos snorted anxiously as Kassandra guided her along the road, stalling with a stomp of her hooves against the beaten path, but Phobos was a good horse and kept trotting loyally along when Kassandra spurred her on. She looked to Barnabas on his scruffy pony, so unsteady in the saddle that Kassandra had simply leashed him to Phobos and been done with it.

The shadows of the distant mountains were heavy in the grey dawn, the sun dim and distant even after several hours travel. Kassandra had thought about offering to wait until sun-up to set off, but Barnabas had been so restless, pacing about the Adrestia’s deck and shrugging off even Herodotus’ gentle hand on his shoulder, that she’d simply shaken awake a man selling horses nearby and bought whichever one Barnabas like the most. Maybe, she frowned, nodding to herself, it would have been better to leave something for Barnabas to focus on, more than the wife he was going to see.

Barnabas wrung his hands, used his fingers to brush out his beard and smoothing back his wiry hair and going right back to wringing his hands, humming a nervous tune under his breath. Tangled his fingers in the mane of his pony and murmured under his breath to it, platitudes comforting himself more than the horse, little half-laughs about how unused to riding he was, shifting in his seat. Wrung his hands some more and looked to the mountains rising high to their side.

“Tell me about her,” Said Kassandra, keeping her eyes on the road ahead and steadying Phobos when she startled at a bird in a roadside bush. “Leda. You said she was beautiful, and a fighter.”

Barnabas jumped. His horse - drooling as he worked his jaw around the bit, and Kassandra was beginning to suspect that his calmness was more than just a natural disposition - did not, trudging along, oblivious, in Phobos’ wake. “I did,” Barnabas murmured. Shook his head. “Ah, Kassandra; how could I tell you about her? There’s always more to a person than just the stories, you know. Like you!” He held tight to the pommel of his saddle, swaying with the motion of his horse; grinned at her, bright in the gloom. “I could meet a man at market and tell him stories about you from dawn ‘till dusk, but all it would tell him about you is how much I love you.”

Kassandra turned Phobos down the track that led to the gateway of the Underworld, stroking Phobos’s neck. Looked to Demeter’s lands, but it was still too dark to make any details out - there was only the dusty road beneath Phobos’ hooves, Barnabas’ face shining earnestly at her more brightly than any of the stars still there twinkling in the sky. She ducked her head low, shrugged.

“You’re a good man, Barnabas,” She said. “I… I like knowing that someone else saw that too.”

“Oh, she would love you,” Said Barnabas, his grin softening into something smaller, gentler. “We always wanted a daughter, you know. Did I tell you that no woman would want to settle on the sea with me?” He asked, frowned to himself and nodded. “I did, yes. Well, _Leda_ was the only woman in the world who would. She lived for Poseidon’s seas, just as I did - she _loved_ the fiercest storms best of all,” He added, rubbing at his watering eyes. Laughed wetly, voice tight. “Ha! Of course it would be the storms she so loved that would take her from me.”

They rode on in silence, the gloom lifting slowly as the sun rose and the moon fell, stars fading away overhead. Barnabas cleared his throat. “We wanted a child,” He said softly. “A little girl, all our own, who would love the sea as we did, all the crew her brothers and uncles; born to Poseidon and the blade, she used to say. A little girl like you had been, I suspect - a terror at every port!” He looked down at his palms in his lap, curling and uncurling his fingers. “Ah,” He said quietly. “Such dreams we had. The ship and crew our own, a daughter to teach hauling the sails and Poseidon’s moods and tempers, gold coming in from every merchant’s goods we shipped. All the world, ours!”

“And then the storm took her.”

Barnabas nodded. “The storm took her,” He agreed. Shook himself, added brightly, “But enough of that! How far to the caves, my daughter?”

Kassandra guided Phobos to a stop, dismounting and picketing her. “We’re here,” She said, and helped Barnabas down from his pony. Ikaros, overhead, gave a cry, annoyance and worry and anxiety; he never liked it when Kassandra went underground, the one place he couldn’t follow. “Wait here with Ikaros,” She told Barnabas, calling the bird down and, when he alighted on her gauntlet, moved him from her arm to Barnabas’. “I don’t know what’s in those caves, so I’ll look first. If I’m not out by midday...” She grit her teeth, because she _would not_ think about leaving Barnabas alone. “If I’m not out by midday go get Nikolaos or Deimos.”

She stalked to the cave entrance before Barnabas could answer, peered into it but in the darkness couldn’t tell how deep it was. It could be as tall as she was, or it could very well lead into the underworld. Well, Kassandra thought, rolling her shoulders, she had made worse leaps of faith before and come out better than she had before she’d jumped; Barnabas, there at her back with Ikaros cradled in his arms, Phobos nuzzling his head and his new pony drooling on his sleeve, and Herodotus back on the Adrestia, sat on his bench and pulling the loose threads at the hem of his tunic in that nervous habit he’d never admit to. It was good she'd leapt to them; only right she leapt  _for_ them, too.

She secured a knotted rope to a sturdy looking tree, hauled all her weight against it but it would not give, and jumped.

The air rushed dead-cold, her heart giving the familiar leap and _hurting_ from the joy of falling, her grin splitting her face as it always did because _this_ was what she was made for - leaping fearlessly into the dark and her fearlessness rewarded with the punch to her chest of hitting water, unhurt. She swam to the shore gleaming wetly just outside the little circle of dim starlight falling from high above, looked to the rope that had fallen with her and nodded - she’d worried it was going to be annoyingly long, the end of it soaking unpleasantly in the water it fell into because it _always_ fell into the water, but for once it was just short enough not to.

The caves echoed silently, loudly. She grit her teeth against the feel of its quietness heavy on her skull, crouched low, and followed the tunnel. It stretched on, and on, and on - the distant _plink_ of water getting no closer, it seemed - only-

“Bones,” She murmured to herself, staying close to the wall of the tunnel where the floor felt smoother. She hesitated then decided fuck it, she had her sword and spear for a reason, and so lit a torch and swept its circle of light low against the ground, looking closely at the remains. There were a lot of them; all human, best she could tell. Kassandra swallowed, stamping out the torch and putting it away. Moved on.

A corner; Kassandra peered cautiously around it and strained her eyes. A smallish cavern, lit by dim torchlight. A shadow moved across the wall. Alive. Dangerous?

“It really _is_ the Underworld, Kassandra-”

“Barnabas!” Kassandra snapped, quietly as she could as she dropped her fist. “I should put a bell on you, this is the _second time_ you’ve done this! I could have hurt you!” Barnabas smiled at her, like he didn’t think Kassandra’s heart thudding loud and heavy and painful and _frightened_ against the cage of her chest would ever be able to truly raise a blade to him. She scowled at him, murmured, “I _told_ you to wait with Ikaros and Phobos!” And shushed him when he started to speak; the shadow had frozen, deathly still.

There was a woman crouched at the base of three torches. Just a woman, from what Kassandra could see peering around the corner of the tunnel; not a monster in disguise. Black hair, soft and silky looking, fell softly down her back in waves gentle as Poseidon’s shallow tides, skin dark and rich. A woman, though Kassandra couldn’t say if she was beautiful or had green eyes; her back was to them.

She seemed… harmless enough for now, and Kassandra was here for a reason. She pointed Barnabas to her, nodded at him and smiled when he hesitated. His hands trembled where he held them close, looked to her with a nervous little quiver and sighed softly when she nodded to the woman again. When he only gripped her elbow tightly, wobbling a little on his feet, she walked with him close to the woman. Barnabas hesitated again, hands tight around Kassandra's; stepped into the circle of torchlight.

“Leda?” He said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I thought it was going to be three chapters. Apparently I can't plan for shit, and it probably says something about me that the chapter I write three times the length of the rest is the one with fighting and swords and blood in it, so, here; cliffhanger while I work out how in the hell I'm splitting the last half.


	4. Chapter 4

The woman whirled to her feet and slashed, iron gleaming from her hand and Kassandra brought her sword up, caught the blade before it thudded deep in Barnabas’ chest; parried the blow to the side and _shoved_ her back, just enough to get a heartbeat of space.

“Barnabas, get back!” She shouted, caught the next blow again and brought the woman close, hooked ankles and yanked her off balance but _slow_ , too damn slow in the tight press of the tunnel; the woman rolled back to her feet, kicking up bones and dust.

“Who sent you?” She demanded, hissing from between bared teeth. “Pelenos? Antikles?” But she didn’t wait for an answer, leapt again, leapt for _Barnabas_ like Kassandra was just some _malaka_ he’d hired that’d fuck off when her employer was dead and _no_ , fuck that! Kassandra shoved her blade deep into the woman’s shoulder and Kassandra was big and strong for a reason - launched her back into the cavern and rolled close, closer still; shoving her back and away from Barnabas.

Armour took the worst of Kassandra’s blow, cuirass torn open but the bitch underneath unhurt and _damn her_ , Kassandra hated it when enemies were sensible! “No one sent us!” Kassandra snarled, parried again and shoved the woman back because _what if it_ **_was_ ** _Leda?_ and Kassandra didn’t want to hurt Barnabas by hurting the woman he loved. “We have no _fucking_ idea who those people are.”

“Ha!” Shouted the woman, “Why don’t I believe you?”

She went for Barnabas _again_ , no time to catch the blade properly just shoving her way in between and _ow_ , Kassandra needed that shoulder! She cursed - she knew she should have gone for something sturdier than Artemis’ gear - and hacked her spear across the woman’s hand, the blow a clumsy _thud_ instead the blood-wet _slice_ she wanted but it made her drop the blade and Kassandra ripped it out, threw it to Barnabas’ feet.

“We don’t _know_ those people!” Kassandra snarled again, hand shaking, blood hot down her arm and _still_ the woman went for Barnabas, a knife scratching across Kassandra’s collar before she could push her away! _Oow_! Kassandra clutched the stab on her shoulder, showed her teeth even as the woman’s glare demanded she roll over and show belly because _fuck her_ if she thought Kassandra would let Barnabas die. “Fucking _hel_ , no one sent us! He’s looking for his _wife_ \- she went missing decades ago and we thought she might be hiding here. _Fuck_!” She hissed.

“ _Kassandra_ ,” Said Barnabas, hurrying forwards and pressing his own hand to the stab, _ow_ , “My daughter! _Please_ , not you!”

The woman hissed, low and anxious, but she didn’t attack again. Barnabas looked to her, pulled Kassandra against his chest and she was more than happy to fall into the hug, helping him keep the pressure on. “Leda of Ithaka,” He said, quick and rushed and _shaking_ , damn it - he should have stayed above ground. “We were sailing when a storm caught the ship, Poseidon angry with us so suddenly! He smashed us against some rocks and she pulled together some pieces of the hull, ‘don’t stop paddling’ I said...”

He breathed out shakily, looked to Kassandra’s blood cooling on his hand and pressed his mouth to her head, didn’t seem to feel Kassandra patting his elbow. She’d had worse, he didn’t need to worry, it was just a stab. Kassandra’d had many stabs and survived - he didn’t need to hold her close and murmur against her head, “Oh my dear Kassandra, not you too. Not like dear Leda.” Kassandra was _fine_ \- she was! Just a little bit of blood, hurting to hel and back, _gods_ , but not enough to kill her, not even remotely enough. She just… She just… Kassandra pressed her cold hand to her head, made a fist to stop her fingers trembling, and tried to call up the power dormant in her blood while Barnabas murmured worriedly. “Hold on, Kassandra,” He said, “Hold on, like Leda did. ‘Don’t stop paddling-’”

The woman’s knife thudded dully to the ground, and Barnabas hauled Kassandra behind him at the sound, shoulders hunched like guarding Kassandra was its own armour on his back. “‘Until you reach the shore’,” She murmured, Shook herself and grimaced in an apologetic half-smile, shifting awkwardly. “Quickly, I've got some supplies in my pack you can use.” She dragged it out from a shadowed part of the cave, held it out.

Barnabas looked between them, and Kassandra let go of him just enough to stagger and collapse against the tunnel wall. “If this is some trick,” She said, grinning at the woman with too many teeth, power golden in her blood, “And you hurt Barnabas, then I’ll send you to Hades in a coin pouch.”

-:-

The sun was nice to see, finally back up from the depths of those cursed caves. Kassandra wasn’t so sure clumsily stitching together her wounds was a good trade for it - the sting of the needle and the awful pull of the thread through muscle and skin was its own torture - but at least there was sunlight warming her face and chasing away the chill bloodloss always gave her. She wondered, pulling the last stitch tight and tying it up, if she ought to be more concerned that she knew both that Leonidas’ blood in her veins made it so that she could survive wounds normally fatal and how even those wounds themselves was no longer remarkable enough to worry her.

She felt her pulse, found it weak but steady. Her fingers trembled a little, and she wouldn’t be up for more than holding a cup for the next few days, but she had survived worse - losing a little bit of blood was nothing compared to falling off a mountain.

“Are you alright, dear Kassandra?” Murmured Barnabas, wringing his hands while the woman grimaced, poking the fire.

Kassandra shifted closer to Barnabas’ warmth. “I’ll be fine,” She said, nodded to the woman opposite them; felt a little curl of satisfaction, black and angry, when she flinched and looked away. “You; talk.”

“I am Leda of Ithaka, like my mother before me,” She said, and Barnabas went very still, hands pausing, locked, around each other. Leda glanced at Barnabas, just a moment, but quailed a little under Kassandra’s gaze and looked away. “She told me about you - that you were very kind, and you were a king who died fighting the Hydra that wrecked your ship. She said she couldn’t find you when she finally came to shore - that the waves had caught you, and swept you away.”

Barnabas hung his head low, nodded slowly, sadly.

“She said she spent years looking for you,” Leda continued, tossing a twig to the fire. “Wanted you to know that you finally had that child you always wanted. But when she didn’t find you she remarried; settled on a farm with him. He was very kind, and very good to me. I suppose you should know - she… she’s dead.”

Barnabas closed his eyes, nodded again. Whatever he was thinking about he shook away, sharp and short; chafed his hand up and down Kassandra's arm to smooth away the chill prickling across her skin.

Ikaros, perched on Barnabas’ shoulder, fluffed out at Leda, hissing and murmuring _angry_ low in his throat because he was clever enough to know that the blood she’d cleaned from her blade was Kassandra’s, and at Kassandra, too, because Kassandra wasn’t letting him scratch Leda’s eyes out for daring to hurt her. Kassandra called him over and, reluctantly, he hopped to her knee, talons ever so gentle against her skin, and peered obligingly at her wound.

It was already closing - he saw that. Kassandra smiled at him while he continued to grumble at Leda, talons flexing. Sweet of him, but Kassandra didn’t need him to grumble or be angry or worried; she was fine. She’d had worse from people actually dear to her, and she had forgiven him because he was family - Leda was Barnabas’ daughter, and estranged she may be but Kassandra would overlook being stabbed just for that. She stroked Ikaros’ proud brow to calm him, smoothing down his feathers. Her bird, she thought fondly; daft but loved, like Barnabas at her side unrolling some bandages, fidgeting with it while Kassandra struggled to sit up.

“I’m glad,” Barnabas finally said, looking to Kassandra and his hand hovering over her uninjured arm, her elbow. “That she was happy after me. She wasn’t a woman who was meant to sit and stare at walls the rest of her life, mourning her fool man. She _was_ happy?” Asked Barnabas. Leda nodded, and Barnabas sighed a little, rest his hand on Kassandra’s arm properly, helped her up. “Good. Good.”

He bandaged her up well enough with Kassandra telling him what to do, pulling them tight but not too tight to not move or breathe; closed his eyes against the sight of it against her skin with a harsh sigh “My dear Kassandra," He said, hands clenching to fists against her back. His jaw tightened. "Why did you attack my daughter?” Barnabas demanded, turning a glare - a glare! - on Leda, low and angry like a dog's snarl. “She did nothing to you!”

Ikaros screeched agreement, mantling his wings.

“I inherited the farm when _mater_ died,” Leda said, watching Barnabas from the corner of her eyes like she’d just remembered that he’d called Kassandra his daughter, assuming - incorrectly, Kassandra thought, amused, but she didn’t need to know that - that anyone who could raise Kassandra had to have some fierceness somewhere, no matter how sweet an old man he was. “At first it was suitors, wishing to marry me for my fortune.” She scoffed at a nearby rock, shook her head in resignation and added, “They decided killing me was easier when that didn’t work. Bah! Fools!"

“And you thought I was, what, a mercenary hired by one of them?” Said Kassandra, leaning against Barnabas because he was comfortable to lean against, more than willing to take the weight her shaking arms couldn’t quite bear. “Coming to kill you with an old man at my back? No offense, Barnabas,” Kassandra added.

Leda huffed. “You frightened me!” She said, frowning. “What was I supposed to think? You’re very frightening, Kassandra.” Her frown deepened when all Kassandra did was a raise a brow at her and glance at Barnabas again. Leda looked to the sky, the sun rising high overhead. “Still - I’ll be taking the fight to them soon enough; I won’t have them hanging in my shadow a moment longer." She tossed another twig to the fire, watched it burn for long moments. Looked to the sun again.

Ikaros hissed low in his throat, keen eyes intent as he watched Leda.

"I think-... I should be heading home,” She said, getting to her feet and collecting her things. Barnabas held out a few of them for her, smiling so gently that Leda hesitated, smiled back a little, too. “Perhaps… Perhaps you’d like to visit sometime, Barnabas? I could show you _mater’s_ grave, if you’d like. Visit her together?”

Barnabas nodded at her, helped Kassandra up and on Phobos’ back, gentle as he always was but so careful, too; hesitant to touch in case it hurt her somehow. “I would like that, I think.” He squared his shoulders, grinned at Kassandra as he settled in his pony’s saddle; Kassandra pretended not to notice the wrinkles deep and tight around his eyes, worry making even his smiles thin. ”Back to the Adrestia, yes? Poor Herodotus must be worried sick!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It really does say something bad about me that fight scenes are so fun to write, it really does.


	5. Chapter 5

The afternoon sun warmed the cliffs old and worn from centuries of Poseidon’s wrath, pitted with deep caves and cracks. Ikaros let himself be carried by the wind blowing in from the sea, turning his wings so he wouldn’t be swept out to the land stretching out behind them. He called once or twice, the sharp warning trill of _wolf_ and _cat_ whose worry was eased by those dangers being  _far away_.

Kassandra looked to Barnabas, his old, kind face warmed by the sun. Looked to his hands where he was playing with the aulos, running his fingers down the designs etched along the twin pipes. Turned them over and over, but Kassandra didn’t know what he was looking at - looking _for_ \- so turned back to the sea, watching Ikaros tuck his wings in close and diving for a new gust of wind to carry him, flinging himself over the edge of the cliff where Barnabas and Kassandra sat to fly along it, sharp gaze on the water churning far below, but even he wasn’t greedy enough to try his luck fishing here.

Barnabas sighed, slow and heavy. “Leda would play her aulos on our ship, you know,” He said quietly, rubbed his fingers across the etchings again, putting his fingers where the wood had been worn smooth by its player resting their fingers, or holding it idly. “We’d be sailing along and she’d whip it out, and just like that we’d have a little tune to sail through. Little songs off the top of her head.” He smiled when he glanced at Kassandra, noticing that she  _was_ turning her ear to listen. “Such a beautiful woman my dear Leda... was. Every stray cat who crossed her path became our cats - she said we needed mousers. Bah! Couldn’t _bear_ to see them go hungry more like! Like you and your wolves, she was.”

He looked back to the mouthpiece. “She’d get the whole crew singing along with her, every time she sang, and at every port we stopped at? Gods, that woman could get the whole place singing with her! Not even Poseidon could stop himself joining in!” He lifted the aulos to his lips, played a short, jaunty tune. “Ah,” He said, looking down at it again, “What I wouldn’t give to have her by my side again.”

“And your daughter?” Asked Kassandra. “She could have come back to the Adrestia, if you said you wanted her with us.”

Barnabas rubbed his mouth, looked to Ikaros spreading his feathers against the sea air and letting himself be flung back to overhead, screeching his joy. Said nothing as he turned his face back to the setting sun, shadows gathering cold at their backs. A ship crawled across the waves, but it was too distant for Kassandra to tell what kind of ship it was.

He sighed. “I don’t know her, my dear Kassandra,” He said finally. “All her life she and my dear Leda thought I was dead. And now she has a life of her own, a farm. Perhaps someday she will have a family of her own. What right do I have to interfere with that?”

“You could have asked - maybe she would have liked to join us.”

Barnabas shook his head, wrapped his arm around Kassandra’s waist and tugged, gently; sat up as tall as he could just so Kassandra could try to fit herself against his side. But she didn’t fit - she was tall and broad, strong arms and stronger shoulders. Not like Leda, delicate and pretty who didn’t have to hunch and twist just to get a cuddle from her father, or the man her mother had married who took that place. “I don’t know her,” He said again, and his face was earnest was when he turned to Kassandra, a little lost and a little sad but not unhappy, not regretting for a moment that he’d left his daughter, his _true_ flesh and blood daughter, behind. “Not like I know you.” His mouth pressed thin. “I _chose_ you as my child, Kassandra - that will never change. I could have a hundred daughters spread across the world but I’ll not know any of them as I do you, and that, I think, is more important.”

Kassandra looked away, grit her teeth because she knew Barnabas loved her, knew Barnabas chose her and would always choose her, didn’t regret for one moment that he’d taken her as his, but there was still his own child out there, too; he deserved to have her, a daughter he didn’t have to share with Herodotus and Nikolaos. “She is your blood, Barnabas. And there’s nothing stopping you from getting to know her.”

Gently, ever so gently, Barnabas took the tie from Kassandra’s braid, using his fingers to brush it out as he hummed in thought. Started re-doing it for her. “And I will,” He murmured. “I will visit when we are nearby, and we can talk about my dear wife Leda and how she is and all of that. But she doesn’t need a father. You do.” He adjusted the bandages around her shoulder, spreading them flat from where travel had made them bunch up uncomfortably. Had to start again on her braid because he’d lost it grip and the sections of hair was all muddled up together. “You are my daughter, Kassandra. What does it matter if you don’t share my blood? There is no god across all of Greece who could tell me that you aren’t mine.”

“Leda-”

“Is the child of another man in her heart,” Said Barnabas, unusually firmly. “Just as I am your father in _your_ heart. Pythagoras is your blood, but on Thera you never went to him when you had a nightmare and wanted a hug. ‘Bah!’ You would have said if he’d offered one, ‘Bah! I don’t know you, _Malaka_ who is making me tramp across all of greece!’”

“I don’t sound like that!”

Barnabas ignored her, tying up the braid and gathering her back up in his arms when she turned around to glare at him, Ikaros cheeping laughter for Barnabas’ terrible impression high above them. Kassandra settled into the hug with a huff - she _didn’t_ sound like that.

“I chose you, Kassandra, because I know you. You are a beautiful, kind woman who likes to pretend she isn’t kind. You make pets about of wolves because you think they are cute, not because they are fierce. You live for the sea and sky and all of Poseidon’s realm just as I do." Gently, he rest his cheek against her shoulder. "Herodotus and I love you because we know that you'd help us in a heartbeat if you thought we were in danger - Zeus himself couldn’t stand against your blade if he’d hurt us!” He tugged her close, grinning bright and earnest. “What does Leda have against that, hmm?”

Kassandra shrugged, turned back to watch the sun just setting below the horizon, burning along the edge of Poseidon’s seas. Leaned against Barnabas a little more, his arm warm around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone bored of how much I love this old man yet?
> 
> Also, done! Bit terrible, I know - I usually take a lot longer to write and edit than I did this, so I'm sorry it's a little stilted and clumsy.


End file.
